


Pick Out A Dagger

by Widowswebb



Series: hellcat [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alley Sex, Badass Reader, Boba was a simp at first sight, Bounty Hunters, Canon-Typical Violence, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Dominant Boba Fett, Exhibitionism, F/M, Gags, Gloves as Gags, Hard ass boba Fett followed by absolute simp Boba fett, Light Dom/sub, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sassy Reader, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Write the porn you wish to see in the world, dirty alley sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29025336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Widowswebb/pseuds/Widowswebb
Summary: “Were you not watching? Pretty sure I’m the one who didn’t walk away with a stab wound,” you retort, indignant. A sound that you think is a laugh comes through, and he reaches out to wrap a gloved hand around your hip. You don’t pull away from his as he shuffles you closer, and you smile broadly. “Careful, hunter, I could add a new scar to you, too.”“I have a feeling you won’t,” he says, tilting his helmet closer to your head. “What do you want, mesh’la?” He whispers.“What are you willing to give?”“Anything.”Alternatively: How Boba Fett finds his match in the galaxy. This is connected to my other work, A Little Wicked, but can be read on its own.
Relationships: Boba Fett & You, Boba Fett/Reader, Boba Fett/You
Series: hellcat [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129316
Comments: 6
Kudos: 103





	Pick Out A Dagger

Boba Fett first catches a glimpse of you exiting a building in Mos Espa, black cloak pulled around your shoulders, hood hanging down your back. It billows behind you as you walk quickly, brushing right past him without so much as a glance. His helmet follows you as you turn a corner and disappear. 

Later, following a lead from a Rodian on the smuggler Han Solo’s whereabouts, he finds himself in Mos Eisley. He enters the cantina that evening, scanning the patrons for the source of the information the Rodian provided, a Twi’lek by name of Kieran who has crossed paths with Solo recently. 

You stand at the bar, clutching a glass of whiskey in one hand as you gestures with the other to the Jawa you're speaking to. 

Well, speaking might be too kind. You're yelling rather loudly and pointing at the creature's void of a face. He’s too far from you to make out what you're saying, but you're incensed as the Jawa throws it’s hands up and walks away. Your jaw falls open indignantly before you huffs and finish your drink. 

Boba watches as another man enters the Jawa’s vacated spot, body turned toward you as he gestures to the bar. He sees you nod, accepting another drink from the bartender. The man’s hand reaches out to touch your lower back, and you shift minutely away from the gesture, sipping your drink as he begins talking.

Boba makes his way closer to the bar. The Twi’lek he’s searching for isn’t here, at least not yet, and he tells himself he’ll just wait a few more moments to see if he’ll turn up. He inserts himself two patrons away from you, and he can hear the man talking about the last arms deal he made to the Empire. From his spot, he can see your eyes now, and they’re glazed over as you absently nod along to his story.

The man reaches out again, wrapping an arm around you to pull you close to his body. Your hands shoot up, pressing back against his chest. Boba is about to interject when he watches your eyes narrow at the man. 

“Let go of me or I’m going to make you never want to touch another woman again,” you grit out. The man laughs, but Boba watches as one of your hands snakes into your cloak, the glint of a blade catching the bar light as you strike out and embed it in the hand the man has resting on the bar. He shouts, immediately releasing you from the grip his other arm had on you. 

“What the FUCK, you kriffing BITCH,” the man yells. Your hand remains wrapped around the handle of the blade and you twist it from side to side, causing the man to howl in pain. 

“I warned you,” you say, smiling broadly, before yanking the blade out of his hand. He stumbles back, clutching his bleeding hand to his chest. You wipe the blade against your cloak before your hand disappears into its folds to return it where it belongs. “Can I get another drink?”

Fett stands rooted to the spot. He hasn’t been this turned on in a long time, his cock pressing uncomfortably against his armor. He watches as your lips wrap around the lip of your new glass, and your eyes flit to his masked face before you wink. He takes in one ragged breath before coming up beside you. 

“Enjoy the show, bounty hunter?” You ask, smirking up at the man’s T visor. His head tilts toward his shoulder, appraising you. His voice crackles through the vocoder, deeper than you expected.

“Did no one tell you not to talk to strange men, little one?” He asks. Your breath hitches at the nickname, and his helmet catalogues your rising pulse while blood rushes to your cheeks, turning them a pretty pink that makes him break out in a smile behind the mask. “Could get yourself hurt out here.”

“Were you not watching? Pretty sure I’m the one who to walk away without a stab wound,” you retort. A sound that you think is a laugh comes through, and he reaches out to wrap a gloved hand around your hip. You don’t pull away from him as he shuffles you closer, and you smile broadly. “Careful, hunter, I could add a new scar to you, too.”

“I have a feeling you won’t,” he says, tilting his helmet closer to your head. “What do you want, mesh’la?” He whispers. 

“What are you willing to give?”

“Anything.”

You stare up at him for a beat before reaching out and grabbing your glass, finishing the drink in a fortifying gulp. Reaching into your cloak, you pull out a handful of credits and toss them next to your empty glass. You pull away from his grasp and move to leave, giving him a look over your shoulder before disappearing out a side exit. He takes a breath before moving to follow you.

He enters a dingy alley between the cantina and a neighboring building. The twin suns have already set and the space is dark as he notices movement to his right. 

You’re leaning against the wall, one boot kicked up, head tilted back with your eyes trained on him. He walks over, coming to stand in front of you and gripping your chin to tilt your head down. 

“I’ll ask again - what do you want?”

“I want to make this fun. Give me a head start and chase me down like one of your bounties,” you reply, hands coming up to press against the cool beskar of his chest plate. His hand releases your chin and trails down to wrap around your neck.

“Are you sure, little one? I won’t go easy on you just because you’re pretty.” 

“I would hope not.” You’re staring up at his helmet through your lashes, your breath coming in quick little pants that fog up his visor. He releases your neck and draws back. 

“You better start running.”

With a bold smile you bolt from the alley, running towards the sparsely populated streets of Mos Eisley and dodging people and creatures alike to make your way through a maze of alleys and back roads between the sandstone buildings. Your lungs burn as your feet kick up sand behind you, but you don’t stop for a single moment since you don’t know how much of a head start a horny bounty hunter is kind enough to afford you. 

In one of the alleys, you approach a low wall, moving to scale it before you’re roughly tugged back by your arm and slammed to the wall of the building to your right. What little breath you had in your lungs gets punched out of them and you’re staring into the green beskar helmet again. 

“Fuck, that was fast,” you pant. He laughs, a hand coming to part your cloak around you, giving him space to roughly shove his thigh between your legs and pinning you in place. 

“I had some motivation,” he snarks. His hands come up to yank his helmet off and your eyes widen. You’d always thought the bounty hunters didn’t  _ do  _ that, didn’t let their face get seen. You’d heard of the Mandalorians and their creed, but apparently that didn’t count here. He drops the helmet to the ground and you barely have a moment to take in his tan skin, strong jaw, brown eyes and and hair before his hands clutch your face and drag your mouth to his. 

His tongue is immediately in your mouth, desperately exploring and as he lets out a grunt. He drowns in your taste, whiskey and honey and mint. You whimper against him, hands grasping his forearms, scrabbling at the surface of his vambraces. 

“Maker, you’re delicious,” he says as he tears away, ripping at the clasp of your cloak to expose your neck. He latches on, sucking a dark bruise into the flesh as you writhe against the thigh pressed to your center. His hand comes up to roughly palm your breast over your tunic before he’s desperately pulling it up and snaking a hand over your stomach. Your abs clench and a wave of arousal floods your underwear. 

You can’t help the little whining noises that keep leaving your mouth as his hand explores. “Quiet, princess, don’t want anyone to come check on you and find you writhing around like a loth cat in heat, do you?”

This only serves to rip a broken moan from your throat, your hands flying up to drag his mouth back to yours. He obliges, the hand under your tunic gripping painfully to your ribs. “I don’t care, let them see, I don’t care,” you pant desperately against his mouth. 

“Oh, you’re a dirty little thing, huh? Would love to have someone watch you get fucked in an alley, right?” 

“Please, please touch me,” you beg in response. He slides his thigh away from your core and you cry out in frustration. He holds his right hand up, shoving the tip of his middle finger between your lips. 

“Bite,” he commands. Your teeth close around the tip of glove and he rips his hand from it. He shoves the rest of the material into your mouth. “That better keep you quiet.”

You nod, eyes wide as his hand moves back down to tear at the tie of your pants before shoving his hand in to cup your soaking cunt, one finger sliding between your folds and petting the flesh teasingly.

“Maker, you’re fucking soaked, kitten. This wet for an old man, a stranger you met at a fucking cantina,” he grunts before two thick fingers plunge into your heat. You squeal around the glove in your mouth as he wastes no time setting a brutal pace, fingers curling until they hit a spot inside of you that makes tears spring to your eyes. A third finger joins the effort, thumb pressing to your clit and you thrash against him. “Cum for me, mesh’la, fucking cum.”

You moan loudly, muscles tensing before lightning shoots through your veins and you’re cumming around his fingers, gripping impossibly tight to the digits. He pulls his hand out of your pants, wrenching the glove from your mouth and kissing you desperately. You’re still writhing against him, riding the wave of your release, when he spins you to face the wall. 

“Keep your hands up, little one,” he demands as he pulls your pants and underwear down to your knees, standing and using his boot to kick your legs further apart. You arch your back, pressing your ass out to him and he steps back to take you in. “You’re going to fucking  _ kill  _ me, girl.” 

You turn your face to look at him over your shoulder. “What a way to go then, huh?” 

“That mouth is going to get you in trouble,” he warns, roughly grabbing one cheek before landing a solid smack against it, the sound ringing in the empty alley. You yelp and hardly get a chance to recover before he plunges into you in one powerful thrust. 

He knows you can’t keep quiet and he brings his hand up to slap across your mouth, cutting your scream off. You’re absolutely fucking split on this man’s cock, the stretch bordering on painful. He remains still, waiting for you to adjust as you pant around his hand. When you start to grind back against him, he removes his hand to instead pry your mouth open and shove the same fingers covered in your cum into your mouth. You lap at them, tasting yourself, as he begins to move in sharp, fast thrusts. 

“So fucking tight,” he groans, head dropping to your shoulder blade. You moan around his fingers and he withdraws them to grip your hips, pulling you back against him. Your nails claw painfully into the wall of the building you’re pressed against. “Say my name, hellcat, let everyone know Boba Fett is filling your gorgeous cunt.” 

“Fuck! Stars, it’s so good, your cock is so good, Boba, so kriffing huge,” you pant. Your cunt flutters around his cock and he snakes a hand around to rub quick circles to your clit. “Yes,  _ yes _ , just like that, I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum on my cock, princess,” he commands and you fall apart again, shattering on his thick length as he continues to pound into you. He mercifully removes his hand from your clit as his thrusts start to become sloppy. “Where can I cum, quick, girl.” 

“Inside inside inside,” you slur, and that’s it for him. He slams against your ass, grinding deep into you and spilling his heat inside you. He presses you into the wall as he catches his breath, using a hand to move your sweat soaked hair from your neck and planting a kiss on the skin he finds. 

“You’re kriffing perfection,” he whispers, nipping your ear. You giggle, leaning back to steal a kiss. 

“Bet you say that to all the girls,” you say, a sliver of self-deprecation in your tone. You’re one hundred percent certain this man has just absolutely ruined you for anyone else, and it makes your heart stutter that he’s probably just here for a job, and you were only a fun distraction. 

He slips out of you with a groan, bending to pull your pants back up your thighs and securing them in place. He grips you by the hips to turn you back to face him. He crouches down to the ground to grab your cloak, fastening it around your throat. You’re trying to catch his eye, but he just kneels back down to grab his gloves and tuck his helmet under his arm. He draws back up to his full height, and he finally looks at you with a smile softer than you expected to see. 

“I promise you, I’ve said that to no one in my years in this galaxy,” he murmurs, tucking your hair behind your ear before bending his head to kiss you. It’s gentle, a complete one eighty from his earlier efforts to bruise your lips with his own. You smile up at him, bringing a hand up to trace a finger down a silvery scar on his cheek. “I have a job to finish.” 

You nod once, gripping his cheek and pulling him down for one more kiss. His tongue slips along yours and he crushes you to his chest with his free arm. You pull away first this time, stepping back with a shiver that has nothing to do with a chill, especially on this desolate planet. 

“Find me after?” You ask. He pulls the helmet back over his head, tipping it down to rest the cool metal on your forehead. 

“You couldn’t keep me away,” the modulated voice replies. He steps back, turning away and making his exit down the alley. 

Days later, in the cantina, you learn the deadly bounty hunter, Boba Fett, has died. Tossed into the sarlacc pit in a scuffle with Rebels. You order another drink. 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m just on a roll with some Boba smut and I hope y’all continue to enjoy to the journey with me.


End file.
